Best Laid Plans
by bellabug
Summary: GSR FLUFF! No spoilers.


**DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Shocking, ain't it?**

**OoOoOoOoO**

Sitting on the floor of her now-empty bedroom closet, Sara slowly sorted through her most precious belongings. An old wooden camphor chest, no bigger than a sewing box, lay open before her, the finish scarred from years of use. Resting atop the faded velvet lining deep within its belly lay her certificate of emancipation, a tangible symbol of her hard won freedom at the tender age of sixteen; her name badge from the very first job she ever worked, her wages hoarded in a savings bond to pay for her college education at Harvard; a collection of photographs and trinkets, some old, some new, all treasured; and, last but not least, the class schedule from Berkeley advertising the details for an extended forensics conference offering four-week seminars in psychology, anthropology and entomology.

At the time she had only been a second year CSI, still a rookie in many ways, and her supervisor in San Francisco had not see the value in letting her attend, but she was determined, begging and pleading until he agreed out of nothing more than a desire to be rid of her. She had filled her nights in the weeks leading up to the event reading all the material she could get her hands on, eager to hold at least a rudimentary understanding of the subjects before she set foot in the lecture halls. Forensic anthropology had been her favourite, followed closely by psychology. It wasn't her job to ask why, but that didn't stop her wondering. Entomology struck her as tedious, trying and ever-so-slightly unnecessary. There were others ways to determine time of death, other ways to narrow down location. But being the eternal student she did the reading, cited the source material, and prepared herself mentally and emotionally to sit through what would undoubtable be the most mind-numbingly boring lecture she had ever attended.

As she approached the hall, Starbucks in hand, she felt her feet begin the drag as she constructed a detailed mental list of all the things she could be using the next few hours to accomplish. Surveying the room, she decided to position herself several rows back from her usual seat close to the front, to hopefully hide her apathy from the guest lecturer. As she watched the other attendees begin to trickle through the door, she tried to imagine what a forensic entomologist would look like. She pictured a man in his mid-to-late fifties, thin and wiry, his face hidden behind enormous black plastic glasses, his old but tailored suit hanging from his frame. He would give off an air of quiet desperation, his voice reedy and thin, and when one looked at him one couldn't help but think that he was just counting down the days until retirement or death, not terribly concerned by which came first.

Finishing the last of her coffee, she got up to dump the cup in the bin by the door, her eye landing on the handsome man standing just outside in the hall, his back to the wall, obviously uncomfortable with the unwavering attention being lavished upon him by a blonde woman who made a point of flicking her hair and giggling flirtatiously every thirty seconds. Sara could certainly see why the woman was trying so hard. The man was tall without being overbearing, strong without seeming vain. His short brown hair curled around his ears, setting off his tan skin perfectly, and as he began to flick nervous glances to his right, as if looking for an excuse to escape, she was struck dumb by the ocean-blue purity of his eyes. As he finally managed to extricate himself from the increasingly uncomfortable situation, he turned and headed straight for her direction, the sleeve of his black t-shirt brushing her arm as he passed. She turned and followed his progress with her eyes, deciding recklessly to gather her things and take the seat beside him as soon as he settled, hoping to earn a smile or perhaps even a wink with some light-hearted sarcasm after the lecture finally began. Confused at first, she couldn't understand why he kept hovering around the front of the room, leaning on the podium and adjusting the microphone. Realisation finally dawned when he looked directly at her and said simply, "Miss, if you could please take a seat, we have to get started." Her mental picture of the sad old man shattered, Sara was suddenly exceedingly thankful that she had forced herself to digest that last chapter on the humble blow-fly.

Staring at the class schedule, now tattered and torn from years of handling, Sara couldn't help the smile that spread unfettered across her face. They had spoken many times of their first conversation, their first cup of coffee, their first meal together, but she had never told him about the first time she saw him, her expectations, impressions, her cunning plan to win his favour.

Lost in her thoughts, she didn't hear him abandon his post packing the last of the boxes across the room and make his quiet approach, looking up only when she heard him ask from his position leaning against the doorframe, "What are you smiling at?"

She took a moment before answering to once again drink in the sight of him. His hair had greyed and a trim dark beard now covered the lower-half of his face, but his curls still tickled his ears, his skin still looked warm and inviting, and his eyes were still a devastating shade of blue.

"I was just thinking about the day I first saw you."

Curiosity peaked, he stepped forward and lowered himself to the floor to sit beside her, their knees touching, backs pressed against the wall. "I remember that night. The orientation dinner. I still don't understand why they scheduled an orientation four days into the event."

Chuckling softly, she leaned her head over to rest on his shoulder. "No, I had seen you before. Do you remember being accosted by an overly-enthusiastic blonde woman in the hallway outside of your very first lecture?"

After a moment of quiet reflection, Sara was shocked when he brought a hand up to dramatically cover his eyes. "Oh my god... Rebecca Whitehall. She was a TA for one of the anthropology professors. She drove me crazy. She followed me around for weeks. She just wouldn't go away! And all the laughing and blinking and hair-twirling and whirling – I thought she had some sort of nervous disorder!"

Breaking into uncontrollable laughter, Sara doubled over, clutching at her stomach and breathless from exertion. When she had finally calmed, she moved to lie on her back, her legs in the air, feet resting against the wall, and her head in his lap.

"Yeah, you had an almost nauseous look on your face..."

Abruptly he stopped stroking her hair, drawing his hand away as he gaped at her open-mouthed. "Wait, you mean you saw me there, trapped, and you did nothing?"

"What could I have done?"

"Threaten to take hostages, pull the fire alarm, walk up and say 'hello', perhaps!"

"Well, you know, in hindsight..."

As he watched the cheeky grin pull at the sides of her mouth, he crossed his arms over his chest and did his best to give off an air of indignation.

Fighting the amusement triggered by his boyish pout, she sat up and turned to face him. When she turned to look away, his chin raised high in defiance, she crawled closer to him on all fours, coming to rest as she straddled his waist, her hands resting lightly on his shoulders.

"Do you want to know what I thought of you?"

She knew the man before her better than she knew herself, and she could not miss the spark of interest that flashed however briefly in his eyes, prompting her to continue, her voice low and seductive.

"I thought you were gorgeous."

As dubious eyes turned to meet hers, she leaned closer to wrap her arms around his neck, trapping his arms, still crossed in front of him, between them.

"Do you remember seeing me there?"

Slowly, he shook his head without saying a word. Her smile faltered a little, and he quickly moved to uncross his arms, wrapping them around her waist and pulling her closer, so that their faces were mere inches apart.

"I was the girl standing awkwardly in the doorway. You told me to sit down. Actually, you pretty much accused me of holding up your class."

A smile broke slowly across his face. "God, I remember. That was you?"

Relishing the feel of his arms cradling her back, her chest pressed against his, their faces so close that each breath he took blew the wisps of hair across her cheek, she simply nodded in a silent reply.

"That was you... " Shaking his head in amazement, he let himself drown in her eyes, continuing only when she moved to rest her head lightly on his shoulder, her lips pressing lightly against his neck. "You kept staring at me. After the whole thing with Rebecca in the hallway, I was worried that you were going to start following me around as well."

Pulling back abruptly, she playfully punched him in the arm. "You thought I was a stalker?"

Laughing lightly, a joy he only ever experienced in her company, he released his hold on her waist and used his hand to catch hers, pulling it to his mouth to lay a feather-light kiss on her palm. Tearing his lips from her skin, he gently folded out each of her fingers, staring with amazement at the fingerprints unique to the woman he loved. Mischievously he winked at her, saying softly on a smile, "You did look a little crazy."

"Hey!"

"Miss Sidle, in the face of such a passionate defence of your sanity, I take it all back. You did not look crazy. You looked sane, centred and absolutely beautiful."

"Okay, well, now you're just mocking me."

"Maybe a little..."

He watched with a smile as her face flickered from patient annoyance to wry amusement and back again, winking at her impishly as she lost the battle against the smile tugging at her lips. Leaning forward to kiss her, he pulled back suddenly before their lips had a chance to touch, the smile gone from his face, his expression puzzled.

"So, if you weren't nuts, why were you staring at me?"

Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she lowered her eyes from his. "I was waiting for you to sit down, so that I could come and sit next to you..."

He was shocked into silence. She was so charming, so intelligent, so unbelievably beautiful, and she had wanted him all along. All the pain, the suffering, that he had put them both through denying his feelings for her came flooding back, filling him with a fresh sense of shame.

"I'm so sorry, Sara..."

Confused, Sara momentarily forgot her embarrassment and met his eyes, tilting her head to the side. "Sorry? For what?"

Lifting one hand up to dance lightly over the silky skin of her naked arm, he raised the other to gently push a stray hair from her face. "We could have had this years ago, couldn't we?"

Leaning forward to capture his mouth in a passionate kiss, she pulled back to whisper against his lips, "We have it now, and that is all that matters."

He again wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her against his chest, her head coming to rest in the crook of his neck. They stayed like that, wrapped in each other's arms, drawing comfort from the simple fact that the other was there, until the faint sound of knocking broke through the tiny space. Lifting her head from his shoulder, she looked at him in confusion. "Did you order food, or something?"

"No."

"Well, maybe it's not here."

As soon as the words left her mouth, the knocking sounded again, this time louder and more insistent. Pulling herself unwillingly from his lap, she stood slowly and stepped out of the closet, through her bedroom, and towards the front door. As she stood staring out the peep-hole, she felt Grissom come up to stand behind her, his hands running down her sides to rest on her hips.

"Who is it?" he asked, prompting her to swivel violently and slam her hand over his mouth.

"Shhhhh! It's Nick."

Reaching up to remove his human gag, he whispered in confusion, "Nick? Why?"

Before she had time to answer, the Texan's voice called from the other side of the door. "Sara? I know your home. Your car is out front."

Still looking into Grissom's eyes, she called through the door, "Nick... What, uh, what are you doing here?"

"Are you serious? You invited me!"

Grissom raised an eyebrow in a silent question, his eyes searching hers for answers as she shook her head, her brow wrinkled in confusion.

"No I didn't."

"Yes, you did. Last week, remember?"

Groaning loudly, she buried her head in Grissom's chest, shaking her head from side to side and closing her eyes in frustration and disbelief. She had completely forgotten about the invitation, a spur of the moment decision made over a week earlier, before Grissom had asked her to move in with him, before she had accepted and life had turned into boxes and trucks and storage lockers. Guilt led her to step back from Grissom and move towards the door, ushering her lover a safe distance away before opening it a few inches, her body positioned to block his view of as much of the room as possible.

"I'm so sorry, Nicky. I completely forgot. Now is not really a great time. Raincheck?"

Angling around to try and snatch a peek at whatever it was she was clearly trying to hide, Nick pursed his lips suggestively before whispering, "Sara Sidle, do you have a boy in there?"

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Sara pursed her lips and said in a dry tone, "Goodnight, Nick. I'll see you at shift tomorrow." Without waiting for a response, she took a half-step back and began to shut the door, only to be stopped by Nick's hand pushing on the wood as he caught a glimpse of the room behind her.

"Whoa, hang on a minute. What's going on? Are those... boxes?"

The movers had finished work a few hours earlier and what hadn't been transplanted into the townhouse was now safely locked away in a storage locker across town, leaving nothing but brown cardboard boxes labelled 'Kitchen', 'Bathroom', 'Bedroom' and 'Study' stacked on the floor in place of her sofa, desk and dining table.

Not knowing what to say, she said nothing as Nick leveraged more of his weight on the door, forcing her to step back and let him in, sending Grissom dashing for the bedroom and the safety of her closet.

As Nick surveyed the room, his eyes betrayed his hurt as his voice betrayed his anger and disbelief.

"You're moving? When did this happen? Why didn't you tell me? I could have helped you."

Leaving the door open, Sara stepped closer to him, crossing her arms over her chest, her eyes furtively searching the room for any trace of Grissom's presence.

"I know, but I had it covered. I can take care of myself." After a brief moment of silence, she met his eyes with a friendly confidence. "So, I should get back to things. What about that raincheck?"

Not to be placated that easily, Nick pressed on.

"Why are you moving? I though you loved this apartment."

Closing her eyes against the frustration, Sara did her best to keep her voice calm and even.

"I just felt like a change. You know how things go. How about we go out for a drink next week? Just you and me."

"Just felt like a change? Okay, I can buy that. So, what is your new address? And more importantly, when is the housewarming bash?"

In their best laid plans, she and Grissom had decided not to tell anyone about her change of address, not yet willing to share their relationship with the world. She was going to rent a post office box and give that to the lab as her current postal address, and whenever one of the guys suggested coming around to her place, she would find some excuse to divert them out to one of the many restaurants and bars that littered the streets of Las Vegas. On Grissom's end, instead of asking Catherine and Brass for their keys back and peaking their curiosity, he had just arranged for the locks to be changed, effectively protecting them from any unwelcome visitors.

Sara had no idea what to say, so she said nothing, and as the silence dragged on, she could see the suspicion growing behind his eyes.

"Sara, what's going on?"

"Nothing. Nothing's going on. I just zoned out for a minute. You know how it is when you are trying to do a million things at once. I really should get going, though." Laying a hand on his elbow, she led him to the door. "So, we'll talk later about that raincheck, okay? Bye."

She managed to get him all the way to the hallway, but as he turned back to say goodnight his eyes landed on the two separate sets of keys resting on her breakfast bar. Sticking a foot out to keep her from closing the door, he lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper as he asked, "Why, I do believe you have been holding out on me!"

"What do you mean?"

"Where is he?"

"Where is who? What are you talking about?"

"Your secret boyfriend."

Growing more and more anxious with every passing second, Sara fought her instincts and did her best to maintain an open and honest posture.

"Nicky, I think you're slipping. I don't have any secret boyfriend. I don't know what made you think I do."

"Well, there's lots of little things, of course. You smile more, you leave on time, you actually stay at home on your days off." He was practically humming with excitement as he paused dramatically, watching as she let out an unconscious sigh of relief in the face of his flimsy, highly circumstantial evidence, before confronting her with his 'smoking gun'. "And then there is the fact that he left his keys on your kitchen counter."

He watched her face fall and panic begin to rise, her eyes darting to the counter and then to her right at the closed bedroom door.

"Nick–"

Cutting her off before she could diffuse the situation, Nick hurried on, his tone eager and triumphant.

"I was right! So, all of this," he raised a hand to point accusingly at the boxes behind her, "is because you are, what? Moving in with him?"

Giving up all fight, Sara lowered her head and shut her eyes, resting her shoulder against the door.

"Something like that..."

Suddenly concerned, Nick took a half-step forward, his posture protective.

"How long have you been seeing this guy? And how do I not know about him? He doesn't hit you or anything does he?"

She let the smile wash over her as she thought about just how wrong he was. Grissom would never hurt her. He was the gentlest man she had ever known. Even when he grabbed her hips or crushed her to his chest in the heat of the moment, his touch always felt like a caress, the gentle undercurrent of tenderness soothing away any rough edges.

"We've been together a while now; and no, Nicky, he doesn't hit me. He... he loves me."

"Then why keep him a secret?"

Before she could formulate an answer, Nick took a step back into the hallway and pulled his foot from the door. Nodding his head, he looked at her with understanding eyes.

"It's Grissom, isn't it?"

His words hit her with all the force of an avalanche. How could he know? Had they gotten too comfortable? Had they slipped up? Did anyone else know? Did Ecklie know?

As Nick saw the expression on her face change from a gentle smile to a mixture of shock, anxiety and outright fear, he hurried to reassure her.

"Don't worry, Stretch, I won't say a word. You don't want to hurt him and I understand."

Confusion overwhelming all other emotions, Sara stood up straight and simply uttered a shaky, "What?"

"You have nothing to feel guilty about, Sara. He had his chance and he did nothing. You deserve to be happy, and from the look of that smile earlier, you are."

"Nick–"

Raising his hands to silence her, he continued on.

" You're secret's safe with me. Promise. You just tell this mystery man of yours to treat you right, or he'll have one very angry cowboy to deal with. Got it?"

"Ah... sure."

"And Sara?"

"Yeah?"

"Congratulations."

Without another word, he turned and began making his way down the corridor, leaving Sara standing in her doorway, confused, amused and unbelievably relieved.

As she walked back through her empty living room and into her empty bedroom, she felt the laughter bubble up inside her until she just could not hold it back any longer. Opening the closet cautiously, Grissom took in the sight of her sitting hunched atop a box of books and raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Honey? Are you alright?"

Red faced and out of breath, she lifted her head to take in the sight of him before standing quickly and throwing herself into his welcoming arms. Patiently he waited, rubbing tiny circles over her back until she was calm enough to explain.

"So, that was Nick."

"I got that much, yes."

"He saw your keys on the bench. He figured out that I was moving in with a boy."

"What? How did he get that from a set of keys? Couldn't you just tell him the second set was for your new place?"

He watched face fall as she silently berated herself for not thinking of that at the time, and quickly prompted her to continue with the story in an attempt to curtail any further self-flagellation.

"So..."

"So, he figured out I was moving in with someone, and started asking questions. You know, who is he, how long have we been together, why am I keeping him a secret. The usual stuff."

"What did you tell him?"

"Nothing."

Pulling back to hold her at arms length, Grissom searched her face for an explanation.

"Nothing?"

"Nothing."

"Honey, help me out here."

Laughing lightly, she again closed the gap between them, wrapping her arms lovingly around his neck and losing herself in his beautiful blue eyes.

"Well, before I had time to come up with a convincing lie, he did all the hard work for me. Basically, he thinks that I am keeping my boyfriend a secret to protect your feelings."

"My feelings?"

"Yep. For some strange reason he seems to think that the thought of me with another man would drive you a little crazy."

As understanding dawned, Grissom felt a smile wash over his face as he brought his arms up to wrap around her tiny waist. Leaning forward to lay a feather-light kiss on her lips, he whispered, "He's right, you know. The thought of you with someone else... It would kill me."

With her eyes still closed, she brought her lips to his in another kiss, this one deeper and more passionate than the last. Pulling back, she opened her eyes, watching and waiting for him to do the same. When he finally met her gaze, she said, her voice soft yet confident, "Well, then, it's probably a good thing I'm your then, isn't it?"

His face serious, a trace of doubt still lingering behind his eyes, he uttered a quiet, "Yeah."

"And Grissom?"

"Yeah?"

"That's never going to change."

In that moment, he could see their future in her eyes. As he leaned forward to kiss the lips his lips were meant for, he allowed himself to trust for the very first time that what they had was forever.

_FIN._


End file.
